Monsters and Men
by LawrVert
Summary: Javert is the police inspector of M-sur-M by day and monster hunter by night. Madeleine has a dark secret that could destroy them both. Possibly eventual M/M relationship. Rating will go up in later Chapters. Written for the Valvert Exchange.


Chapter 1: The Monster Within

_The tall man stood on a barren plain. His surroundings were desolate underneath a starless sky with a moon barely visible under pendulous stormclouds. He shouted to the emptiness and his voice echoed in the sepulchral darkness. Suddenly, a figure rose from the dry, cracked earth in front of him; it was coated in a thick mud that obscured its features. _

_"What are you?" the man asked in a shaking voice. _

_The mud began to slough, falling from the figure's face and body in thick clumps. _

_"I am you." _

_The figure was his identical down to the smallest detail save one- the man's warm hazel eyes were two dark orbs without iris or pupil, bottomless in their blackness. _

_The man drew back from the figure trying to escape it whether it be demon,shade, or Gollum. The entity was too fast and grasped his shoulder, fingernails piercing his skin and searing the flesh. _

_"No!" _

_"Yes. We are one. We are soulless. We are damned. And we will destroy everything we try to save." _

_The man brushed a sudden droplet off his lined face and glanced down at his fingers which were coated in blood. More drops began to fall, saturating his clothes and staining everything red with blood. He fell to his knees as the figure laughed. _

Madeleine awoke from the nightmare drenched in sweat, bedclothes twisted about his ankles. While he had no biological need for sleep and could stay awake for days without tiring, he continued to sleep to avoid arousing the suspicion of his concierge and to maintain his connection to humanity. He was born a human in Faverolles. He was reborn as a vampire in the Bagne.

Dark memories long-buried assaulted him. He was new to prison; and a cellmate tried to attack him, a small man the guards considered mad. He was able to restrain the man without harming him and for a time had no further problems. As he slept one night, he awoke when two sharp points pierced his neck. Marcus' lips were pressed there, and he was feeding hungrily. Marcus almost went too far and he was close to slipping away. Madeleine would never know what made Marcus stop, yet he remembered the man paused and stared at him as he drifted toward unconsciousness. He did not know if the words Marcus spoke were real or part of a half-remembered fever dream.

"It would be a shame to kill you. You have such potential, Valjean. Do you want to live?"

Valjean managed to nod his head once. Before the blackness claimed him, he felt the cold lips pressed to his forehead and heard a voice, now distant, whispering. "I give you the gift of eternal life."

He burned with fever for several days after that and was too weak to work. His blood felt like it was white hot and freezing cold all at once. He trembled from head to foot. His heartbeat thundered like a bird's and then became so terribly slow that the doctors feared it would stop. The doctors described it as "fits" and "blood fever."

He awoke to a sound like the footfalls of an elephant. He was in the prison infirmary . He looked around and his eyes focused on a fly landing on the windowsill. He could not only see it, he could hear it across the room. His skin was hypersensitive and his body, which had always been fit and strong, felt cold and strong as a marble statue. For a time he was enraptured by the newness of the world—The glorious detail of every blade of grass, every tiny sound.

It wasn't until a few days later after he had been moved back to his cell that the hunger set in. While he was capable of eating, the black bread begun to lose its flavor and he was almost nauseated by it. He began to have strange, dark urges he didn't understand. "What did you do to me?" He asked Marcus, grasping the front of his shirt.

"I have made you immortal, like me, Valjean."

Valjean released him and began to laugh. "You really are mad, Marcus."

"Have you not noticed your strength—you can lift stones that weigh nearly a ton and right fallen pillars like Samson."

Valjean's grip on Marcus' shirt loosened. "What am I?"

Marcus rubbed the skin of his chest and placed a hand on Valjean's shoulder. "If you allow me, I will tell you. Although you do not believe me; I have been a soldier in Napolean's army, a knight templar, and a Roman Centurion . I have lived through famines, disasters and plagues. I have seen many empires rise and fall."

"If that is true, then why are you in prison?"

"I am weary of the world—I've seen too much of it and now, I intend to die here."

"You said that we cannot die."

Marcus pulled on his dirty beard. Although Marcus' face was the unlined face of a young man, his eyes were weary.

"It is a myth that we cannot be killed. We cannot die by natural causes. Bullets, knives, broken bones will not end our lives. Only slow starvation, another vampire, or beheading can kill us. I await the embrace of Madame Guillotine and I welcome it. "

Before his death, Marcus had taught him all he knew of vampire lore. He taught him how to suppress the hunger for blood, how to turn another into a vampire, and how to feed a little at a time from rats and other animals in order to sustain him in times where prey was scarce. Marcus limited his feeding on humans to those mortally injured and dying, but Valjean vowed never to feed on humans.

Madeleine went to the washbasin and splashed cold water on his face, and forced himself to focus on the present. It was still the middle of the night and his body was growing weak. Intense, consuming hunger filled him. The blood in his veins seemed scalding hot and his heart was racing. He needed to feed quickly. It had been too long and he would need more than a rat to sustain him. It was still early morning and the town of Montreuil was sleeping. He sighed in relief, dressed in his black hunting clothes, and knelt to pray. He prayed before every hunt—for game to be available, for the discipline not to harm a human, and for his tainted soul.

As the mayor of the small town, he had to hunt with extreme discretion, so he never went out unless he wore a disguise. The mayor was already discussed in the parlors and drawing rooms for his unknown origins, goodness, and reserved, gentle nature. It was bad enough that he was a convict. If any of them suspected he was a vampire…

He did not dwell on those thoughts. Although he had been taught how to feed on humans, he'd never allowed himself to. When he was first paroled, angry and broken, he had nearly fed on not one but two innocents. When the kindly Bishop of Digne offered him shelter and food; his anger and hunger had been so great that he crept into the man's room in the dead of night, and for a bleak and abysmal moment, he considered feeding. Instead, he stole the man's silver. He was caught; and rather than fight and reveal what he was, he allowed himself to be captured. The Bishop gave him the stolen silver, two silver candlesticks, and his blessing.

The second human he considered feeding on was a little chimney sweep passing by on the road from Digne. The Bishop claimed he had bought his soul for God, but Valjean's redemption was not instantaneous. He was still angry, broken, and hungry; and a dark part of his soul rebelled against the Bishop.

Now, he led a lonely and austere but noble existence and brought peace and prosperity to the town. He was a symbol of charity and goodness, well-respected and honored. He put a floppy dark hat on, wearing it low over his brow and wrapped a thick, black scarf around his neck and the lower half of his face.

As he stepped out the door, he pulled the hood of his cloak up to conceal the rest of his face. Hunched and bent over, he would look like just another beggar by the docks . He moved with unnatural grace and speed, darting down an alley. His sensitive ears listened for any sounds telling him that it was occupied. He heard only a faint scuttling noise and squeaking sounds. He was close enough to smell the blood—pungent, primal, and laced with pheromones. His fangs descended from his gums in anticipation. He killed the nest of rats quickly and cleanly and tried not to torture himself with thoughts of the way he must look hunched over his kill.

As he left the alley, the wind rustled his cloak and carried with it a strange, familiar scent. There were people nearby. The blood flowing in each human's veins carried a unique scent and he had been told by Marcus the blood of each human tasted different.

He stopped in the street s to listen. He could pick up a few faint phrases, a woman's voice screeching, and a man telling her to remain silent. There were sounds of a commotion. Madeleine ran with preternatural speed to the sight of the disruption in the town square.

A tall man dressed all in black advanced on a woman dressed in a tight red dress and ragged black traveling cape. She had a pleasing form and long, red hair that flowed in loose waves over her pale skin. She was pressed up against a statue. Although the man's back was turned; he recognized the heady, intoxicating scent belonging to Inspector Javert.

The woman shook her head, shrinking back from the large man. "No…No…It wasn't me. Please, Inspector."

"Silence- I know what you are."

"A girl has to earn her living somehow."

"I'm not referring to your disreputeable trade, Charlotte. Several Montreuil residents have died in the past fortnight. You were present at all the crime scenes just before their bodies were discovered."

The woman drew her cloak protectively around herself, looking suddenly childlike. "And you think I'm a murderer?"

"No. I think you are a harbinger of death and a threat to the town… a threat I intend to remove."

He reached into his pocket and Madeleine debated intervening.

Javert pulled out a nondescript vial, unscrewed a cap, and threw the liquid it contained on the woman. She began to laugh and nothing happened for a moment. Then, her clothing smoked and she hunched over and the laugh became a piercing shriek that seemed to shake the earth. Javert hit the ground, rolling away from her as if he had been toppled by a gale.

He reached into his pocket again and struggled to his feet as her screams intensified. Dogs barked, lights began to flicker in windows, and a glass window nearby shattered. Madeleine pressed his hands over his ears.

The woman seemed to curl into herself. When she stood straight again, she had the face of an old crone—wrinkled,skin, sparse grey hair, and black eyes. Javert recited a phrase in Latin which seemed to immobilize her just long enough for him to stab her in the heart. Her mouth opened to reveal needle-sharp teeth and worked soundlessly for a moment before she collapsed. There was a rustling wind that swirled around the fallen creature and suddenly all that remained of her was a pile of rags. Javert lifted them carefully and shook them out. Satisfied, he retrieved his truncheon which he had discarded in the pursuit, and headed in the direction of the station.

Residents were starting to peer out of their windows or come out of their front doors, so Madeleine slipped quietly back to his home, entered through his bedroom window, and collapsed in a large chair in his drawing room.

He had his suspicions about Javert from the time he arrived in Montreuil. Madeleine mused that out of all the officers who could have been posted at Montreuil, he'd ended up with the one officer who could destroy him. It was bad enough that Javert might remember Toulon well enough to expose him as an escaped convict. Madeleine's very existence was threatened if he recognized him as a vampire. Marcus had told him about men like Javert. Hunters trained to seek out and kill so-called aberrations. He considered packing and renting a fiacre to take him far away from Montreuil, but how could he abandon all he had built. For the first time in his life, he was respected- even loved. How could he leave that behind?

He shed his hunting clothes and dressed in the finely tailored clothes of Madeleine. He left his home for the factory and stopped on his way to his office to inspect equipment and chat with some of the workers.

His elderly concierge brought him tea while he went over crime reports and commented on his appearance as he set the try in front of him. "You're looking well, Monsieur Mayor. You've got some color in your cheeks again. You had me worried you'd caught a chill."

"Don't worry, Phillipe, I've just been a bit tired."

Madeleine became aware of the second teacup on the tray ;and before he could ask, Phillipe noticed him staring and replied, "Inpector Javert is waiting outside to deliver his weekly report."

"Send him in." Madeleine did not glance up from the stack of papers for a time, although he did not focus on the words they contained. Instead, he studied his hands, considering whether the the temperature and pallor of his skin would give him away. His tongue absently traced his incisors as he considered how to start the conversation.

The inspector cleared his throat, yet he waited silently for the mayor to acknowledge him. Javert crossed his arms, pacing back and forth.

"Inspector, the entire town is gossiping about the disappearance of Charlotte Lestrade." Madeleine glanced up from the paper, and regarded Javert coldly. "The butcher claims he saw her vanish in a puff of smoke. The baker claims she melted away."

Javert's eyes widened briefly before they resumed their cold, neutral expression. "I was under the impression that there were no witnesses." The words were uttered under his breath and barely audible.

"I have never found fault with your work as an Inspector. I believe you to be an honorable man. That does not change the fact that you murdered an innocent woman last night."

Javert's face flushed and his knuckles turned white on the truncheon tucked under his arm. Each word was vitriolic when he replied. "That thing was not human."

"Charlotte never harmed anyone. She was trying to reform and become an honest woman. She tried to suppress her powers. It wasn't her fault that she could sense death."

"A tame fox may still bite the hand of the master that shelters it. Have you seen how a banshee's scream can shatter a human skull? "

"You cornered her. She only screamed because she was threatened!" Madeleine was close to losing control.

"Creatures like that may look human, but they aren't! They may assume human form, but they can never escape the monster beneath their skin."

"Are you so convinced that these creatures cannot change, Inspector?"

Javert scoffed in reply. "Not even men can change."

Madeleine stood and leaned across the desk, a menacing look in his eyes that would have inspired terror in a lesser man. Javert held his gaze calmly. After a long moment, Javert broke the silence.

"I have sworn an oath to prevent these creatures from harming men and I intend to uphold it. There are casualties in any war, Monsieur Mayor. Charlotte's death was a necessary casualty."

Madeleine forced the tension out of his arms and sat down again. The sudden change in emotion and the release of chemicals that followed had made him acutely aware of the blood pulsing in the inspector's veins. His eyes were drawn to the spot just above Javert's cravat where the regular throb of his pulse marked his heartbeat; the scent of his blood was a heady, enticing mix of musk and something pure that reminded him of the air after rain. He found himself slightly dizzy; a flush crept into his cheeks and he tried to think of anything else to avoid wondering how the Inspector's blood would taste. He felt his fangs starting to descend , and he dug his fingernails into his palm under the desk until the pain suppressed the base desire to feed. There was a terrible ringing in his ears that increased in intensity with each beat of Javert's heart .

A rough sound ended the ringing and roused him from the trance: it was Javert clearing his throat. Madeleine realized that Javert had been speaking for a few moments.

"When I was stationed here, you knew of my training with the Surette. I find it curious that you did not raise any objections then."

"At that time, I was unaware of the extent of your..nocturnal activities." Madeleine released a piece of paper that he had unconsciously crumpled in his left hand.

"Hunters have been sanctioned by Paris for over a hundred years. Furthermore, I have decreased crime significantly."

The anger had drained out of Madeleine's voice. Now, he merely felt impatience and a desire to end the conversation and get the Inspector out of his office before he lost control and harmed him. "At what cost, Inspector?"

"Do you suggest that I let these dark creatures run free in our town? Montreuil is full of them!"

Madeleine shook his head. "No. I am not questioning the need for a hunter. I merely suggest that some of your methods are extreme."

Javert clenched his jaw. "Extreme in what way? I was under the impression that the hunting of aberrations are under my jurisdiction."

Madeleine sighed. "In killing these creatures, as you refer to them, you are acting as hunter, judge, jury, and executioner."

"Well, what would you have me do? Ask them in for tea? Talk to them about reforming?" Javert snarled and a ferile grin exposed gums and teeth. "Monsieur Mayor, your naivete astounds me."

"I am suggesting a compromise. You may continue hunting using whatever methods you deem necessary—with the exception of death."

Javert's smile disappeared and was replaced by a piercing, terrible glare. "I remind you that there isn't a prison built that can house many of these creatures. You don't know what you are asking."

"You are a man of some intelligence. I'm sure you can figure out ways to solve any issues that arise." Madeleine replied.

Madeleine stood and walked over to a bookshelf. The volume he pulled out was very old; the leather binding was cracked in several places and the yellowed pages were fragile. He handed it to the inspector whose eyes widened in astonishment.

"How did you come by this?"

"This book was passed on to me by a friend dead many years now. I am not wholly ignorant of the work you do, Inspector. I have studied many supernatural phenomena over the years. I believe that you might find some of my knowledge helpful."

"What are you proposing?"

"I am proposing you accept my assistance."

"Is this an order?"

"No, Javert. It is a request."

Javert studied him gravely. "Then, I regret that I must respectfully decline your offer. I work alone." He attempted to hand the book back to Madeleine. His fingers brushed Madeleine's hand for a moment and Madeleine flinched at the contact. Javert's hands lingered for a moment on Madeleine's cold skin and his eyes narrowed before the mayor pushed the book back toward him and released it.

"No. Keep it. I suspect you will find it more useful than I."

Javert bowed stiffly and turned to leave.

"One thing more, Inspector. Should I find out about anymore…sudden deaths of residents, I will be forced to intervene."

Javert blanched and looked poised to seize the mayor by his collar; instead, he nodded stiffly and stormed out of the office.

Once he was gone, the mayor paced his office and breathed deeply trying to calm himself. Although satiated only hours before; his confrontation with Javert had brought about a renewed hunger, a hunger that would have to wait until later that night.


End file.
